


flowers for the fair lady

by dwyndling



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Floriography, Fluff, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Perfume, playing fast and loose and gay with ffxv canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25658473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: The bottles of perfume glitter in the sunlight, a rainbow of shimmering glass. Smiling, Lunafreya places another amid the rainbow.
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret & Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Aranea Highwind
Kudos: 23





	flowers for the fair lady

**Author's Note:**

> So. I was a bit hesitant to write this piece due to my current lack of familiarity and forgetfulness in regards to much of the FFXV timeline and lore. Buttttttt......lesbians. If you happen to be intimately familiar with the FFXV timeline and "who knew each other when" and "how this situation actually went", please forgive any inconsistencies. Consider it an alternate timeline if you have to. I.....genuinely have no idea how canon compliant this is or isn't. There's some inconsistencies that I am fully aware of, but this is ao3. You most likely didn't open this fic for an exact representation of canon. I wrote this in one sitting, so please excuse the mistakes, of which I'm sure there are many.
> 
> this one goes out to all of my arafreya twitter mutuals. long may we live.

The regular envoy from Niflheim arrives in full splendor, a prison guard in royal armor. Their presence is not a surprise, much less a blessing, but Lunafreya has lived long enough to know that this is the way of life.

At the very least...this is the way of the life she was born to lead. 

Perhaps it’s the smallest shirking of her responsibilities, but she lingers in the hallway before the formal reception. Formality upon formality is what arrays this state of affairs, a dove among the snakes dressed up as the courting of swans. It’s the least she can give herself, an extra moment of silence before the charade of polite smiles and demure words begins again in earnest.

...and then the silence is broken, by the sound of footsteps.

Lunafreya glances up, to meet the eyes of another young woman. She must be a few years older, and the measured nature of her gait and the easy strength in her shoulders implies a warrior, as does the leathers and armor she bears. She must be from the Empire, though her non-regulation gear would indicate a free-lancer.

A mercenary then. Lunafreya lifts her chin, and paints on a gentle smile.

“Have you come to collect me?”

The woman blinks at her, as if just noticing she wasn’t alone in the silent hall. “Actually I was lost.” Her voice is smooth, deep, and Lunafreya hears the guarded tone present in any woman who has managed to get ahead in life.

“The hall is just down that way.” She lifts a hand to point, and the woman’s gaze follows it. “The reception will be beginning momentarily.”

The clink of armor and the rustle of leather heralds the woman’s movement, and she walks closer to Lunafreya and the designated hall. “Thanks.” She gives a small huff of laughter, and Lunafreya notes the spark that designates genuinity. “I was beginning to think I’d never find it.” She gives a quirk of her lips, and without having to ask Lunafreya knows it’s the same smug smile that has graced many a battlefield.

“It’s no trouble. The layout of the grounds can be...confusing.” She allows herself a moment to study the woman, the shaded grey of her hair, the rich jade of her eyes, the full lips that curve upwards in a quiet triumph.

“Well, you’re very kind for assisting me.” The woman looks her up and down, as though Lunafreya were a marble statue in a museum. “It would appear that the lady of Tenebrae is just as kind as they say.”

The boldness of the statement startles her into laughter, and she claps a hand to cover her mouth. So the woman  _ does _ recognise her. “Not at all! I merely do my duty.”

“...I see.” For a moment they simply stare at each other, and all Lunafreya can think of is the giddy burst of amusement that comes with how blunt this woman is. 

_ It’s been awhile since anyone...spoke to me like this. _

“The lady of Tenebrae also has a very good perfumer.” The woman’s eyebrow arches up. “Not that it’s a surprise.”

It’s such a random statement that for a moment she freezes, the memory of dabbing rose and vanilla behind her ears that morning springing to mind unbidden. “A-ah, I apologise, is the scent too strong?”

The woman smiles wide enough that Lunafreya catches a glimpse of pearly teeth. “Hardly. I’d say it’s perfect for you, if it’s not too bold of me to say.”

Another huff of amusement escapes her before she can shove it behind her dignity, and she bites back the smile that rises up. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s one of my favorites of my collection.”

“You collect perfume?”

“I...suppose you could say that.”

It’s true. There is a cabinet next to her wardrobe, the shelves lined with a veritable rainbow of glass bottles. Some are from far away, some are manufactured here in Tenebrae, and she knows each one like an old friend. There is a scent for sitting at the signing of yet another treaty, there is a scent for traveling among village folk, and there is a scent for the rare days when all she does is follow Umbra and Pryna as they romp in the fields of sylleblossoms.

“What an interesting hobby.” The woman looks at her through thick grey lashes, and despite her practice at poker faces and politics, Lunafreya still feels a slight lump in the back of her throat at the intensity of the inscrutable gaze. “I suppose there’s still a lot the public doesn’t see about the lady of Tenebrae.”

The reception will start any moment now. She has no time to think too hard about the look on the mercenary woman’s face, and what evaluation she was giving her. The woman follows her easily out of the hall, and the ceremony begins.

It only occurs to her later, as she sits at her vanity untying her hair, that she never asked the woman’s name. 

❀❀❀

Amid the parcels of gifts and kind tidings that are sent to the lady of Tenebrae every week, there is a small box, kind and unassuming. There are several other small boxes of its ilk, but this one in particular catches Lunafreya’s eye because of the script on the ribbon. It’s been giftwrapped by the retailer, the same one that makes one of her favorite perfumes.

True to prediction, when she opens the pale purple box it does contain a bottle of perfume, the same one she wore to receive the military envoy from the Empire some weeks ago. Lavender rose and vanilla. The glass of the bottle is nearly the same purple as the box, a striking emerald ribbon around its neck.

_ To: the kind lady of Tenebrae,  _ the inscription reads.  _ From: A. H. _

Lunafreya’s heart gives a gentle twinge in her chest.

❀❀❀

The evenings in Altissia are humid and sweet, the air carrying the salty kiss of the sea and the hustle and bustle of the evening crowds. The specific kind of quiet that comes when you are standing in complete silence and hearing the noise of a crowd around you that has become incomprehensible, save for the devastatingly human nature of it all.

Lunafreya stands on a balcony overlooking a waterway, looking down at the sprightly gondolas going merrily to and fro. The choir of cheerful voices and senseless noise is deafened slightly by the wind, a peculiar and slightly mournful whistle whirling around her ears.

It is to be the last moment of peace before she must prepare to address the crowds. 

“You look tired.”

Whirling around, Lunafreya’s hands instinctively clench down on the railing. “You-”

The woman with the jade eyes and a blunt tongue stands before her, arms hanging loosely at her sides. She is unarmed, but Luna knows better than to think that being barehanded makes the woman any less dangerous.

In silence, the woman wanders over to stand near her, about three feet apart. “To be fair, I guess if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t be sleeping much either.” Her gaze slips down to the water, to the cheerful people in the canal below.

“What are you doing here, Commodore Highwind?” Lunafreya keeps her tone measured and even, and doesn’t take her eyes off the woman to her side.

Her responsibilities are acute. Nothing can go awry, lest the worst befall them.

“I’m here to make a delivery, of sorts.” The woman turns to her. “Maybe it seems petty, or meaningless, but…” She reaches into her pocket, and to Lunafreya’s surprise withdraws a small ivory box, wrapped with a pink silk ribbon. 

“I saw it in a shop window, apparently it’s special to this place, and I…” The woman hesitates, and it’s in that moment that Luna realizes that hesitation does not suit Aranea Highwind. “And I thought of you.”

Against much of her better judgement, Lunafreya raises her hands to accept the small box the woman proffers. It is the work of a moment to undo the ribbon, and lift the lid off. 

Inside sits a glass bottle of pale turquoise, the same color of the water in Altissia under the midday sun. It glints like a gem in the evening light, like a teardrop in crystal form. It’s Altissian perfume, and the tag lists the scents as  _ snowdrop, orange blossom, peach blossom. A scent fit for any summer bride. _

“Girls have to stick together, y’know.” Commodore Highwind’s eyes are back on the water below them, and the faintest hint of a smile graces her features. “I know it’s...hard, sometimes, especially for people with great amounts of responsibility.”

Lunafreya swallows around the rock in her throat, and the future seems to dissect itself into neat little branching paths, like cracks in a sheet of glass.

“This is...very kind of you.” She hopes Aranea can’t hear the ragged note that has entered in her inhales and exhales. “To think of me like this.”

_...I don’t think you could even call us friends. But still, she thought of me. _

_ She thought of me. _

“Take it however you’d like.” Aranea waves her hand loosely, as if in dismissal. “From one person who’s been screwed over by the Empire to another.” Her eyes don’t meet Lunafreya’s. 

The sudden pitter patter of her heart feels a little like a war drum, even if the comparison seems ridiculous in the moment after she thinks of it. 

“After...after everything,” and she doesn’t stop to think too hard about what ‘everything’ means in this context, “I’d like to invite you back to Tenebrae. If you like perfume then…” Her breath catches in her throat, but she forges ahead. “Then you should come and smell the sylleblossom fields in midsummer. There are...few scents that can compare.”

Aranea looks up at her then, and the evening light makes her silver hair glow rose gold. “...thank you very much for the invitation, your grace.” And she bows to her, a full bow that bends at the waist and brings her head level with Lunafreya’s hips. “It would be my honor to accept it.”

For the first time that day, the smile that creeps across Luna’s face is real. 

❀❀❀

Her stab wound does make bending over in the dirt somewhat uncomfortable, but it has healed enough that resting on a makeshift chair made of pillows is not too great a strain. It gives her access to the flower plot directly in front of her, and pressing the seeds into the cool dirt is just as healing as any medicine or spell.

Gentiana is just inside, presumably reading by the window, but Lunafreya knows her well enough to see the tilt of her head means her aide is discreetly slumbering away. She deserves it, considering that even with her ageless patience and care, it cannot be anything but tiring to wait on the wounded lady of Tenebrae in her convalescence.

It’s as if...her life has grinded to a halt, in some ways, but has only just begun in others. With the threat of the empire removed, life has in some ways returned to the sense of peace it had before the marriage treaty was drawn up. She and Noctis had formally agreed to put the wedding on hold, at least until the political situation was less murky. Gods know that the young man is busy attending to his own kingdom, and that they’ve both been gifted the freedom of choice in the matter now.

It’s a lot to think about, and she is very tired. It’s much easier to just focus on the sylleblossoms for now, and the patch she’s growing just outside of her favorite gazebo.

Peace has been hard won, but it’s sweetness is better than any ambrosia.

“You were right, you know.”

Glancing up, the bright jades of Aranea Highwind’s eyes are smiling down at her. She’s not wearing her armor, instead dressed in a pale grey blouse and scarlet slacks. Her hair is loose, floating around her shoulders like a deep grey rain cloud.

Lunafreya simply smiles back. “What was I right about?”

Aranea moves with a sinous grace, settling down on the ground beside her. “That no perfume could possibly compare to the sylleblossoms in midsummer.” She laughs, and it’s the brightest Luna has ever heard her voice. “And yet…”

Setting down the pack of seeds, Lunafreya tilts her head to the side inquisitively. “And yet?” 

“And yet…” The wideness of her smile makes Aranea’s nose crickle slightly, and Lunafreya notes the spattering of pale freckles on the other woman’s cheekbones. “And yet here I am, still making an attempt to.”

The bottle she withdraws from her pocket is pale gold, opaque and shimmering. Lunafreya brushes the dirt from her hands before she takes it, admiring the blue silk ribbon tied around the cap.

_ Daffodil, ylang-ylang, and honeysuckle, _ the tag reads.  _ For the loyal romantic. _

Uncapping the bottle, Luna spritzes a bit on her wrists, rubbing them together to disperse the scent. After a moment has passed, she lifts her wrist to her nose.

“It’s lovely.” She graces Aranea with a smile, and the mercenary smiles back, a small spark in her eyes. “You’ve given me three such lovely gifts...it seems hardly fair I have no idea what it is that Miss Aranea Highwind likes.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Aranea studies her with the same inscrutable stare. When she speaks, her voice is rather like church bells, chiming with intent. “You’re sure you have no idea?”

“...I suppose I wanted to be sure.” There’s absolutely a blush spreading across her face and the tops of her ears, and even through the mild embarrassment, Lunafreya can’t say she minds too terribly much. “I’m afraid I don’t have...very much experience with this sort of thing.”

Aranea laughs, and absentmindedly Luna thinks about how nice it would be to hear that sound all the time. “Is that so? Well.” She reaches for Lunafreya’s hand, dirt smudged as it may be, and presses a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “It seems the lady of Tenebrae still has some things left to learn.”

A laugh rises up at the back of her throat. “Is that you offering to teach me?”

She’s offered a wink in return, and Aranea grins, unfettered. “Well that depends, princess.” The woman has leaned in slightly closer, and Lunafreya finds that she’s unconsciously done the same.

“Depends on what?” It’s hardly more than a whisper. They’ve come close enough that she can smell the perfume that Aranea is wearing.

_ Vanilla. Lavender rose. _

It suddenly doesn’t matter what it depends on, and before Aranea can say anything else, Lunafreya leans in and presses their mouths together. If the way the mercenary’s mouth moves against hers is any indication, she has no complaints.

_ How long, exactly, has it been since you looked at me and saw someone worth loving...and why is my answer the same? _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand, as for the flower symbolism:
> 
> Vanilla - purity, softness  
> Lavender rose - love at first sight
> 
> Snowdrop - innocence, purity, hope  
> Orange blossom - good luck in marriage  
> Peach blossom - purity, longevity, good luck in marriage
> 
> Daffodil - uncertainty, possibly unrequited love, chivalry  
> Ylang-ylang - Never ending love  
> Honeysuckle - devotion, romantic affection


End file.
